


The Song of Stars

by Winter_Elwood



Series: Stetopher Week 2019 [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bad Friend Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Bonfires, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Creature Stiles Stilinski, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Good Peter, Guilt, Hurt Chris Argent, Hurt Peter, Hurt Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Intimacy, Isolation, Loneliness, Lonely Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Neglect, Neglected Stiles Stilinski, Nogitsune, Nogitsune Effects, Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, Nogitsune Trauma, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Post-Nogitsune, Post-Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, Psychological Trauma, RIP Allison Argent, Rituals, Stars, Stetopher Week, Stetopher Week 2019, Trauma, Tribal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2021-01-02 22:01:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21168557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winter_Elwood/pseuds/Winter_Elwood
Summary: Fire has been tied closely to humanity for thousands of years, endless stories passed down through generations about the wild nature of fire. Teaching lessons of caution and lessons of safety. Throughout the history of humanity, fire has been so intertwined with life that honouring fire was the way people reached out to the universe and embraced the essence of who they were at their core.It used to be an age-old tradition for many to Light a Bonfire on the New Moon when the sky was lit only by millions of stars. To dance and be without barriers with the Bonfire blazing and chasing away any shadows who sought to bring the dancers harm. It was a night of freedom, laughter, company, and magic.Yet no longer did many participate anymore. No more did the people of this new world put down their responsibilities and tear down their barriers for one perfect night of joy. No longer did they take time out of their lives to just be.





	The Song of Stars

**Author's Note:**

> Woot! First day of Stetopher week.  
I hope I will be able to post every day before 12am.
> 
> Also, to those waiting on me to update my other fics. I deeply apologize, I meant to work on them and then I stumbled into the Hannibal fandom and now have 60 new fics in my bookmarks but I swear to you, I really do want to finish them.

Fire has been tied closely to humanity for thousands of years, endless stories passed down through generations about the wild nature of fire. Teaching lessons of caution and lessons of safety. Throughout the history of humanity, fire has been so intertwined with life that honouring fire was the way people reached out to the universe and embraced the essence of who they were at their core.

It used to be an age-old tradition for many to Light a Bonfire on the New Moon when the sky was lit only by millions of stars. To dance and be without barriers with the Bonfire blazing and chasing away any shadows who sought to bring the dancers harm. It was a night of freedom, laughter, company, and magic. 

Yet no longer did many participate anymore. No more did the people of this new world put down their responsibilities and tear down their barriers for one perfect night of joy. No longer did they take time out of their lives to just be.

* * *

Peter vaguely remembers the older members of his late pack telling stories about the bonfires that blazed with the wild magic from which all wolves had come from. As a child, he had been enchanted with the tales of their old traditions but his parents had buried that tradition because to them it was a thing of the past. How he had longed to attend such a festival of fire, but even as a child he knew that Talia had no love for the things of old just like their parents. 

Something he grew to resent her for. 

She wished for the pack to abandon the ways of old, dull their claws and hide their teeth. To her, such things had no place in a civilized world. He knew that he was doomed to be an outcast the moment she became Alpha. As the left hand, he represented everything she wanted to bury. 

She must have resented him as well because he would never pretend to be anything other than a wolf, not even for his Alpha.

His longing for the revival of age-old traditions had no place in her pack or her children’s’ pack.

* * *

Argents were born to be soldiers in a war of their own making, children were never truely children in a place like that. Chris had never been allowed to do something for joy, such emotions were seen as weakness by his father, to be quickly corrected with a harsh hand. Not only that but Gerard would never allow such knowledge of such a festival to be allowed in his house, even if he had, it would have been painted as something horrible done by monsters.

The only important thing he had ever been told about the new moon was that weres were easier to kill due to them being more in touch with their human side. Everything else was deemed unimportant for him to know. He may have been from the mainline of the Argents but he was just a soldier taking aim at what he was taught to kill.

Though, he does remember a time when he was young where he and his sister were brought to watch the slaughter of a group of creatures. He remembers their screams and a bonfire burning in the background, all while Gerard told them that they were purging the filth that threatened good human lives. He remembers the pain of being slapped when he asked what the group had done wrong. 

A soldier didn’t need to understand, just obey.

Now, no longer a soldier, he wonders what it would be like to do something just to feel joy.

* * *

A longing centuries older then his few years of life sat heavily in Stiles’ bones. He felt the ebb and flow of the world around him like it was second nature and how he longed to dance.

He held the memories of a thousand years that were not his own yet somehow inseparable from his being. A thousand years of bonfires from all over the world, left in his head from the Nogitsune.

A gift and a curse. He was the Nogitsune’s heir, inheriting their tails, but he could not be fox and human at the same time. As long as he was a fox, those he considered pack couldn’t bear to be around him. His own father could bearly look him in the eyes anymore, even if he still did love Stiles.

It was lonely in a way that was confusing, shifting between the age-old longing of the fox and the isolation of the boy on the brink of being a man.

How he wished that he could attend the festivals of old as the fox once did before they were betrayed. To throw away his responsibilities, his guilt, his loneliness for the stars to hold for just one night. Dance as the bonfire warmed the cold void left within him.

But one could not truly dance like the stars intended if one danced alone.

* * *

  


Stiles always seemed to be cold ever since he lost his humanity. It was as if there was a void within him, calling out for something he could not understand, adrift as he was in memories that were not his own. Though it wasn’t as if anyone cared to wonder why he ached. The bond he used to have with the pack had been severed by the others, not that it was hard to do, weak as it was. 

Perhaps it had been his fault for the severed bonds, he was no longer the Stiles they knew nor the one they wanted. To them, he must look like a stranger in the body of what used to be their friend. None of them wanted to look deeper into the void to find him.

It didn’t help that Stiles barely talked anymore, too lost in the memory of dozens of languages that finding the right one was too much of a hassle most of the time. 

And so, months passed by. Each new moon pulling violently at a fox who could not dance, who had no pack to embrace the universe with.

* * *

Despite what the pack of dysfunctional idiots thought, Peter did not devote all of his spare time into devising evil plans. Instead, he devoted his time to put back the pieces of himself that had been scattered from those six years of madness, as well as observe the actions of those around beacon hill. 

The role of left hand fitting over him like a second skin, as much of a part of him as his wolf.

It was in one of his patrols that he encountered Chris Argent, who seemed to be doing the same thing as him. Though for a different purpose.

_ Strangely enough, _ Peter thought as he observed the hunter in front of him, _ I do not despise this Argent. _

This man in front of him was as much a victim as he was. A born soldier who tried to escape and spare the ones he loved only to lose everything. The last one standing. It also helped that Chris was a rather attractive man, had been when he was younger and still was now. Though he’d probably be shot for thinking such a thing if the man knew.

* * *

Eventually, the two men settled into a routine, at first just greeting each other before going on their way, but now they met up every night and patrolled the territory together. Not many words were passed between them but neither felt a need to fill the silence that surrounded them.

This continued for months until they encountered Stiles who seemed to be in another world as he sat upon the Nemeton. Neither man found that they could resist the call of the fox, the only other one who seemed stuck in a limbo between the past and the future. Those dark eyes mirrored the cracks they felt deep inside, the longing to feel something more than numb, to reach out to touch someone.

Perhaps together they wouldn’t be left behind in this vast world.

* * *

Peter and Chris had always been observant men, very little escaped their sights. Therefore it was all too clear that Stiles was suffering as time went by. When Peter was at his weakest, Stiles seemed to be despondent towards anything but the stars. 

It took longer then they would like to admit for them to discover the cause. It wasn’t until Peter broke into the Hale vault that they discovered the cause of Stiles’ longing.

A festival meant to bring joy to those who embraced it, a tradition as old as humanity. It was no wonder that one as old as the fox within Stiles was pulled so strongly by the ancient magic at play. Perhaps this was what they needed for their shards to gather back up again, to be as whole as they could be.

* * *

The two men kept their plan as much of a secret as they could with one as powerful as Stiles, and come the New moon they all were called to the still unlit bonfire. The stars seemed to shiver with excitement and without any help from one of them, the bonfire began to burn with a passion that was soon reflected in the three of them.

The ancient magic of the stars weaved around them, joyous at being called down to dance as have done for thousands of years.

No music played yet they could all feel the beat in their hearts, compelling them to move with the beat of the universe and so they began to dance.

This was not a dance learnt, with controlled small movements, this was the dance that existed in all of them. Not taught, only felt.

The music of existence echoing in their heads, the clearing vibrating with primal magic.

The three of them lost themselves to the ritual. No worries, no pain, no inhibitions, no sorrow, just who they were at their core, released into the moonless sky. No longer was it just the three of them dancing but also the essence of the millions before them, danced beside them.

Time was meaningless, for the night would last as long as they wanted, as they needed. The Dawn would not claim them until the universe deemed it to be.

None would be able to know for how long they were lost to the embrace of fire and stars, for even if it had been an eternity. No aches would touch them.

As their dance slowed they moved close together, three souls weaving together with no barriers to block them. Each slipping into the cracks, filling the void that existed within them. The cold long since chased away by the fire.

The fire grew weaker and the magic was absorbed by both them and the forest, soon they were moving as one. 

Whole.

It has been so long since they all have felt so whole and as dawn broke through the protective cover of night.

They embraced each other with starburst kisses.


End file.
